Knife Work
by Lady Fellshot
Summary: Entreri practices with his blades during a few quiet moments. A response to a writing challenge. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Wizards of the Coast can have Artemis and the rest back when I say so. Not before.

Brief note: Set during _Streams of Silver_.

* * *

Artemis Entreri looked about at his companions as he took the second watch of the night.

The wizard, Sydney, had cocooned herself in her travel blanket as close to the fire as she could get without burning holes in her coverlet. She also snored with the regularity and volume of a carpenter's heavy rasp.

Catti-Brie, the hostage the assassin hoped to use against Regis's friends, had finally settled down from tossing and turning and seemed to be sleeping soundly now. Entreri supposed that it was fortunate for him that she did not lie closer to the fire, else she would have rolled into it with her thrashings. It would have soured the assassin's mood considerably if he had to waste a healing potion on her to ensure her good condition as a bargaining piece.

Jierdan, still in his chainmail armor, slept quietly just within the light of the campfire. He had not moved all night save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. Somewhere out in the darkness under the trees prowled the golem, Bok. Entreri was sure that the golem was Sydney's master's insurance against treachery on the assassin's part, possibly to keep tabs on the guardsman and apprentice wizard as well.

Entreri looked around to make sure that the golem was still out looking for some hapless monster to smash to pieces and silently pulled a small, leather bound parcel from his gear. _Now would be a good time to hone my knife skills_, he thought. He extracted a chapbook sized block of dense ebony wood and tested the keen edges of the small plain penknife and swivel knife that also lay in the kit. With another quick glance to make sure everyone else was still asleep, Entreri took the tiny blade to the lightly sanded surface of the wood and carefully began to chip at it.

Slowly, he delicately cut lines and started to hollow out sections of the block's surface. Other sections, the assassin painstakingly crosshatched and textured the wood, creating varying degrees of shading. He fell into a rhythm with each small motion and managed to focus his attention on the carving in front of him while remaining alert to any sound out of place in the remote wilderness.

Entreri came out of his near trance and looked at his handiwork. Inked and pressed to paper, it would be a stark picture of the Crags, one of them letting steam off into the distance. The assassin felt a warm glow of satisfaction as he regarded his woodcut and debated surreptitiously slipping it into the next printer's shop he came across.

Loud crashing noises and the snapping and splintering of branches prompted Entreri to hurriedly wrap his carving materials in their leather carrier and shove the parcel back into his carry sack. The lightening eastern sky told him that it was near dawn. The assassin schooled his features into cold disdain as Bok lumbered into view.

It would never do for Artemis Entreri to let his foes know what he could do with a knife and some patience.

* * *

Author's note: This probably seems somewhat out of character for Entreri as "soulless killing machine," but he can't stare at nothing for those long night watches now can he? This was written in response to Linndechir's request for Entreri with a hobby of some kind. I hope it is up to par :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing with it for a bit and I will put it back when I'm done.

Brief note: Set after "That Curious Sword"

* * *

Artemis Entreri shut the door to his sunlit room and carefully checked all the locks, the window, the closet and under the bed. Satisfied that his drow traveling companion was not hiding somewhere and had not slipped any spying devices into his room, the assassin carefully pulled out a familiar worn leather wrapped kit from his travel pack.

It had been years since he had felt both safe enough to use it and inspired enough to have something besides a dead Do'Urden flitting about his mind. All of that destructive obsession was gone now and all of the stress of the past months in Calimport was left behind. Entreri was freer than he had been in years, but he still felt a pang of loss from his swift retreat from Calimport. Perhaps his old hobby would help take his mind off it.

As had been his habit so long ago, there was a clean, prepared piece of unmarked wood wrapped in with the small blades. The blades were as clean and pristine as he remembered, but the wood was teak this time around. The assassin could not recall where and when he had picked up the wood, since usually he preferred something harder, like ebony or mahogany. He weighed the block of wood in his hand and decided it did not matter. He made sure the little penknife was still keen and carefully began to carve out the woodblock.

The image Entreri had in mind was not as simple as a landscape and took longer than he thought. He wanted to make sure every cut was perfect for his subjects, a captured moment in time. The sky was starting to grow dark when he finally finished. The assassin did not have time to savor his work since the sound of his door's lock clicking prompted him to hastily hide the finished woodblock and carving knives under the bed pillow.

The door opened and Jarlaxle stood in the hallway with a perplexed look on his dark face. "Are you all right?" the drow asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Entreri said curtly and in an effort to distract Jarlaxle, strode out of the room without waiting for his partner to comment further. He felt fairly certain that Jarlaxle had only enough time to do a cursory glance at the room before he lost the assassin.

Entreri was halfway down the inn's staircase down when he heard the dark elf's light footsteps catching up to him. They walked in silence as they left the inn to go get some dinner and figure out what jobs to take now. He slowly let out a relieved breath and started to feel a little less grim for successfully guarding his secret when Jarlaxle said mildly, "You should send her a copy."

Entreri stopped in his tracks and stared at the drow, "What?"

"I said you should send Dwavhel a copy," Jarlaxle repeated in the same even tone, "She'd probably like hearing from you."

The assassin felt his jaw starting to drop and said, shocked, "You saw it."

"Artemis, I watched you carve it," the drow said calmly. As Entreri stared at him, Jarlaxle continued, "Well, not all of it. Just the last part."

Entreri felt his shock start to give way to hot anger, "How?"

"There's a little gap under your door and I have a small mirror," Jarlaxle said earnestly, "I heard some little scraping noises coming from your room and got curious. Really, my friend, it's a very good woodcut of you and Dwavhel playing sava in her office."

The assassin felt his initial rage melting away, leaving a feeling of unease in its wake, "It's chess."

"Whatever," the dark elf waved the correction away and said reassuringly, "I knew someone who liked to practice card tricks for fun. I won't tell anyone. I was starting to worry about you, you know."

"Stuff it," Entreri shot back, but his heart was not in the banter as they continued to a tavern. Perhaps he would send Dwavhel an anonymous print, one friend to another.

Perhaps one day Artemis Entreri would carve another one with different friend as the subject.

* * *

Author's note: Just a little more fluffy goodness for grins and giggles. Thanks to Linndechir for making the request .


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